


Lay Your Ray Down

by isengard



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M, hella dumb shmoop wow, moriyama is one part fairy godmother and one part chef from south park, origin story kinda, take this away from me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-09 03:00:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1140649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isengard/pseuds/isengard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kasamatsu Yukio has a series of important realizations:<br/>1. He probably picks on Kise too much<br/>2. He probably <em>likes</em> Kise too much<br/>3. He is without a doubt, 100% screwed</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lay Your Ray Down

**Author's Note:**

> for Zoe, my darling Kaijou groupie
> 
> *this is set between the InterHigh and the Winter Cup, probably closer to the latter

It happens one day after practice, when Kise's been playing really – _practically_ , there's no other word for it. Passing when necessary, working on his jumps to keep the game moving instead of turning every shot into an opportunity for a drawn-out one-on-one battle. Keeping the showboating to a minimum. And it's good, he's tired at the end of it like the rest of them, throwing his head back and laughing at something Moriyama's asking, pushing a towel over his hair and letting it hang around his neck, managing to make it look like a designer scarf instead of a 20-yen gym rag.

“Team's really coming together,” Kobori says with a nod, nudging Kasamatsu with his elbow. “Nice work, Captain.”

“You think?” Kasamatsu says, but he isn't really asking. They _are_ coming into their own, he'd thought the addition of a Teikou Miracle would either make them or break them, and it's a huge payoff to see it's the former. Even though they didn't win the Inter-High, even if they don't win the Winter Cup, it's one less regret to have on his list.

Hell, maybe Kise could even inherit the captaincy. There's a thought.

“Hey,” he says, walking over. “Quit chatting and hit the showers.” He reaches for Kise to – he doesn't even know, praise him, pat him on the shoulder, just provide a point of contact, and that's when it happens: Kise flinches.

It's barely noticeable, Moriyama doesn't seem to pick up on it at least. It's not typical of Kise's protests, all hands waving and overdramatic wailing and exaggerated shoulder-slumping. It's small, quiet, a reflexive tightening and drawing back of his upper body, his eyes darting downward and his breath catching _ever_ so slightly.

Kasamatsu freezes, his hand still suspended in the air next to Kise's shoulder.

Half a second passes, and then Kise's eyes go comically wide. “Aah, senpai, please don't hit me!” he begs, vaulting backwards from Kasamatsu and flailing his arms out. “I was just telling Moriyama-senpai about this new cologne I'm promoting, that's all!”

“I wasn't – I wasn't going to hit you!” Kasamatsu protests. “Why would I hit you?”

“Kasamatsu-senpai's so mean, he always hits me!” Kise cries, flopping dramatically onto Moriyama, who looks nonplussed by the entire situation.

“I do not,” Kasamatsu says. He looks to Kobori for support. “I don't _always_ hit him. I don't!”

“It's true, sometimes you hit me instead,” Hayakawa says.

“I've caught a backhand or two,” Moriyama says thoughtfully. “Less since Kise joined. Hey, thanks, Kise.”

“You're _all_ mean,” Kise pouts. “Fine, I'm going to the showers, my agent said it's not good for me to be upset when I'm sweaty.”

He flounces off, and Moriyama turns to Kasamatsu. “I hope you're happy, that cologne could've been my ticket to the big time.”

“ _What_ big time,” Kasamatsu says exasperatedly. “How the hell do you think a cologne is going to help you shoot – ”

“Not with basketball,” Moriyama says, shaking his head as though Kasamatsu is breaking his heart. “The _honeys_ , Captain. Ladies, females, the fairer sex, the portion of humanity you might notice once or twice if you ever left the gym – ”

“ _Showers_ ,” Kasamatsu snaps. “All of you, or I'll – just, _go_.”

*

If Kasamatsu was hoping a day away from his teammates would make him forget about the entire incident, he's dead wrong. If anything, it's the opposite, he's done nothing but run that _flinch_ over and over in his mind, every miniscule detail, down to the way Kise seemed to notice his slip-up, a genuine reaction in place of the varying degrees of charade he puts on for them every day.

A very literal hoard of fans (not basketball fans, _Kise_ fans) shows up to their next practice, and Kasamatsu does in fact find the urge to hit Kise rather overwhelming. He's never really taken notice of it before, just trusted his gut and slapped the kid upside the head – it's not _hard_ , it's not like he's abusing him or anything.

Is he?

“Don't take too long,” he says, finally, glaring at the girls in turn. The urge to hit something grows stronger the longer he stands there, so he turns on his heel and strides back to the locker room.

“That was big of you, senpai,” Nakamura says. “Thought for sure you were gonna knock him on his ass right there.”

“In front of so many _girls_ ,” Moriyama says, sounding faint. “Wait, but then they'd feel sorry for him...they'd try to help him up...Captain, if we went back out there right now, could you – ”

“For fuck's sake,” Kasamatsu says, throwing his towel down. “I don't hit him _that_ much, come on.”

He waits for laughter, for agreement, good-natured head shaking. He gets silence.

Kobori says, “Well.”

Hayakawa says, “Um.”

Nakamura says, “Define 'much'.”

Moriyama is still garbling about God-knows-what, but he pauses to say, “Yeah, you kind of do.”

Kasamatsu sits down.

“Captain,” Kobori says. “This isn't news, I mean you've always been a little hands-on with him. It's worked, obviously.”

“Coach would've said something if he thought you were being too rough,” Nakamura adds. “At least if he thought, like, Kise's life was in danger. Probably.”

“Thanks, that's very comforting,” Kasamatsu says. “Coach doesn't think I'm harboring homicidal tendencies towards our ace. Probably.”

Hayakawa raises his hand. “I don't think you are either.”

“I just...how do you _not_ hit him?” Kasamatsu asks. “He's so...I mean, you've seen him, the way he's always...and the way he looks, and he does that thing, with his face, and it's _so_...” he trails off, seeing the way they're all staring at him. “What? What are you idiots looking at?”

“We're just waiting for you to say something that makes any kind of sense,” Moriyama says.

“I don't know, okay?” Kasamatsu says, feeling his face heat up. “He's just very hittable. All of you are hittable, actually, especially right now. I'm taking a shower.”

“I'm not super clear on the takeaway here,” Moriyama calls after him. “Are you going to _stop_ hitting him?”

“Can I hit him instead?” Hayakawa asks.

Kasamatsu ignores them. Sometimes, that's the best course of action with this team.

Once they hear the telltale hiss of the shower, Nakamura shuts his locker. “Well, that was weird.”

“Very illuminating, though,” Moriyama says. The rest of them stare at him incomprehensibly, and then trickle off towards the showers as well.

Only Kobori remains, fidgeting with some part of his uniform.

Moriyama looks sideways at him. “Don't tell _you_ missed that.”

“Dunno what you're talking about,” Kobori says, flushing slightly. “It's none of our business anyways.”

Moriyama sighs resignedly. “As usual, I have to do everything myself around here.”

“Just wait 'till I'm gone, would you?” Kobori says. “When the captain kills you for bringing it up, I'd rather not be collateral damage.”

“Your camaraderie is inspiring,” Moriyama says, putting his hand to his chest. “I doubt it'll be more than a light maiming, we do have that practice match against Seirin on Friday.”

Kobori grimaces. “Yeah, I guess we'll need you, since Kise's still recovering.”

“Damn straight,” Moriyama says. “Girls need _someone_ to cheer for, after all.”

*

All talk of beatings aside, Moriyama does wait until everyone else is gone to speak to Kasamatsu. He figures that'll be the best way to actually have a productive conversation, after three years of knowing the guy, he's learned that Kasamatsu can be extremely finicky about his comfort zone, specifically about feelings of any kind getting it or out of it. Kise lingers the longest, as he so often does, but an angry call from his agent has him hustling out the door amid half-shouted apologies, and then they're alone.

“So,” Moriyama says, stretching his legs.

Kasamatsu looks at him. “Oh. You're still here.”

Moriyama does not roll his eyes. He says, very patiently, “I'm still here.”

“Did you....” Kasamatsu must sense his intentions, he's starting to look a bit wary. “Did you need something?”

“Mm, I just wanted to talk to you about Kise,” Moriyama says, staying seated so as not to alarm his friend with both height and uncomfortable truths at once. “And about how you're apparently totally into him.”

As expected, Kasamatsu goes red first, then draws himself up with _blazing_ indignation, and although it paints a rather charming picture, Moriyama doesn't actually want to be buried under a metric ton of denial mixed with threats and more denial. He has _plans_ for the evening, he can't afford to stay in this locker room being berated for the next fifty years.

“Yuki-chan,” he says, deliberately reminding Kasamatsu that he may be his captain, but he's _not_ his senior, and they're not on the court right now. “I'm saying this as your friend, but also as an Ambassador of Love: you've got it bad.”

Kasamatsu fumes, splutters, and then, finally, slowly deflates. It's a fascinating process; his eyes widen, his nostrils flare, he slumps against the lockers, staring into the middle distance with blatant disbelief written across his features.

Moriyama says, “I take it you didn't know.”

Kasamatsu blinks at him. “Shit.”

Moriyama waits.

“I didn't... _how_ did you...?” Kasamatsu pales. “Does _everyone_ know?

“Unlikely,” Moriyama says honestly. “They wouldn't know love's keen sting if it rebounded right into their faces.”

Kasamatsu stares at him.

He adds, “Also, I watch a lot of romantic dramas. The signs were clear to me.”

“What the hell,” Kasamatsu says. “ _Kise_ , I can't believe it...oh, God, this makes the hitting thing a hundred times worse. _Shit_.”

“He doesn't really seem to mind.” Moriyama has a sudden thought. “Hey, maybe he's secretly _into_ that kind of – ”

“Don't.” Kasamatsu holds up a hand. “Don't be gross. He didn't _ask_ me to hit him, come on.”

“Maybe it's a playground thing,” Moriyama suggests. “You like him, so you're pulling his pigtails.”

Kasamatsu blanches. “That sounds...so awful, but I think you're right.”

“Well, yes,” Moriyama says. Wait. “Really?” He pulls out his phone. “Can you say that again, a little louder? I need to record this, for posterity.”

“Fuck you,” Kasamatsu says meaningfully. “Oh, Christ. This is _bad_.” He plops down on the bench opposite Moriyama and buries his head in his hands. “This is fucked up. _I_ fucked up.”

“I don't really see how,” Moriyama says. “Honestly, you've _met_ Kise. This could happen to anyone.”

There's a short silence, and then Kasamatsu says, “I have to tell him.”

Ah, there it is. Moriyama steeples his fingers – he'd normally back his captain one hundred percent on this, few things hold greater raptures over him than the delicate bloom of young love, _unfortunately_ , one of those few things happens to be the Winter Cup trophy – and says, “Do you really think that's a good idea? Now?”

Kasamatsu looks sick at the idea of it, but he swallows and nods. “It's the right thing to do, Yoshi. I need to at least clear the air. I seriously doubt he'll quit the team over it, but if he does...” he shrugs. “Well, you guys can hate me. This is my fuck-up, though. I need to fix it.”

“But,” Moriyama presses. “Wouldn't it be better to clear the air _after_ the Winter Cup?”

“Kise won't play his best if he's _afraid_ of me.”

“We're all a little afraid of you,” Moriyama points out. “To be fair.”

Kasamatsu shakes his head. “Not like that. You didn't see him flinch the other day, it was like – he was waiting for me to hit him, for no reason. We can't play together if he thinks I'm that kind of guy.” He looks at his hands. “I can't be that kind of guy. Especially not with him.”

Moriyama feels like weeping. It's all so _noble_ , and the potential for romance is tremendous, if this was a daytime drama Kise would be listening on the other side of the door, pressing his fingers to his lips in barely contained wonder, he'd be getting ready to burst through it and rush into Kasamatsu's arms –

“Stop,” Kasamatsu says. “Whatever you're imagining, just stop.”

No one comes bursting through the door. Disappointing.

“I guess I'll try to catch him tomorrow after practice,” Kasamatsu sighs, shutting his locker heavily. “Can you do me a solid? Get everybody hustled out?”

“Sure,” Moriyama says. “Do you want to practice what you're going to say? I can pretend to be Kise, look – 'ooh, _senpai_ , you said you had something you wanted to tell me?'”

“Never do that again,” Kasamatsu says. “ _You_ I have no problem hitting.”

“I'm aware,” Moriyama says. “What about kissing? Maybe you should practice that too, just to be on the safe side.”

He expects another sarcastic retort, but instead Kasamatsu _blushes_ , and Moriyama has about five precious seconds to be delighted and amazed before a shoe is unceremoniously hurled at his head.

*

“Here's the thing,” Kasamatsu says. He's _nervous_ , his stomach is rolling over, which is absolutely ridiculous. “When you first joined the team, I thought you were a brat. I still think you're a brat, actually.” Wow, off to a great start. “You're too _good_ at everything, you don't take it seriously enough. But your seniors put their souls into this game, into this team, and I just needed you to _get_ that. I needed you to take _us_ seriously, so we could be the best. It was always about Kaijou – I think that's what I've been telling myself, anyways.”

“But,” he continues, and this is the hard part, “I think I got a little vindictive, because honestly, you don't _need_ to take us seriously to beat us. You're just...you're miles ahead, Kise, you get better every day. I think part of me is probably afraid of that. Of you leaving us behind.”

He scratches his head. “Kaijou is _my_ team, I feel it in my heart. When I graduate, I'll still feel it. The most important part of being captain, for me, is making sure all my players feel that too. It's frustrating, because the way we scouted you it was like _we_ were the ones having to prove ourselves, instead of the other way around. But I guess I internalized that. I wanted you to choose us.”

He takes a breath. “Or, what I guess I realized recently is, I wanted you to choose me.”

His fingernails are dirty, he notices absently. That's kind of gross.

“I like you, Kise.” There. He said it, out loud and everything. “I couldn't really tell you when it started. I obviously don't expect you to do anything, or say anything, or reciprocate at all, I just. I needed to tell you. Because I think I pick on you because of it, and that's not okay.”

Deep breaths. The worst of it is over. “I hope you don't want to quit the team, but I'll understand if you need to take some time. This is on me, _I'm_ the one who acted inappropriately here, so I'll back you no matter what your decision is. And if you want, we can also just forget this entire thing ever happened. But I just wanted to be honest with you, man to man.” He lets out a short exhale. “Captain's gotta look out for his players, after all. If you stay with us, Kise, I promise I won't let you down again.”

That about covers it, he thinks.

The urge to vomit is marginally smaller, so he chances looking up from his hands and into the mirror. His face is a tomato, of course, and he's sweating, even though it's freezing in the bathroom. Outstanding. “I like you, Kise,” he says again, forcing himself to keep eye contact with his reflection. “I have to tell you – I like you. Oh, fuck.”

“Yu-kun!” his mother calls from the kitchen. “Your breakfast is getting cold!”

“I am so screwed,” he mutters under his breath, straightening his tie and hurrying down the hall. “So, _so_ , completely and utterly screwed.”

*

“Senpai,” Kise says, invading his personal space in the usual way, in nothing but his stupid designer boxer briefs and artfully tousled post-shower hair. It shouldn't be possible for his skin to _gleam_ like that in the shitty fluorescent locker room lighting, honestly.

He says, “Kise.”

Kise's eyes lid, and Kasamatsu either hates him or wants to drag him down and kiss him. “You wanted to speak to me?”

Moriyama is practically going into conniptions in the corner. Kasamatsu directs a pointed glare at him, which has the added benefit of pulling his eyes away from Kise. “Yeah, but just to you,” he says. “Unless you have somewhere to be. Then it can probably wait.”

“Nowhere to be!” Kise chirps, somehow leaning in even closer. “I have the rest of the week off, I told my agent I have to be well-rested for our practice game this weekend!” He bumps his hip against Kasamatsu's, and Kasamatsu feels it like an electric shock. “Wait, I'm not in trouble, am I?”

Kasamatsu doesn't have to look at him to know what he's doing with his face, the big wide eyes and the patented pout that even Coach can't seem to navigate around. It's all very overdone, nothing like that flinch.

That fucking _flinch_ , that one standout piece in a handful of genuine moments he's seen from Kise in the almost-year he's known him. It'd break his heart, maybe, if it wasn't already giving him indigestion and possibly premature gray hairs.

“You're not in trouble,” he says firmly, backing up to maintain a safer distance. “Don't worry about it, it's not a big deal.” Still keeping his eyes steadfastly averted, he adds, “Put some clothes on, you'll catch a cold standing around in your underwear like that.”

Kise laughs. “But senpai, I stand around in my underwear all the time! That's what models do!”

Several pairs of eyes around the locker room glaze over, and Moriyama appears to be struggling to contain his laughter. It's all Kasamatsu can do not to throw shoes at every single one of them.

Some minutes later, Moriyama has miraculously managed to be useful and rid the locker room of all stragglers, so it really is just him and Kise. Kise, who is _still_ not fully dressed, lounging on the bench with his pants and shirt undone, tossing his phone to himself with complicated little hand gestures that Kasamatsu recognizes as the shape of Aomine Daiki's formless shot. It's not perfect, but it's damn close.

God, he _really_ hopes Kise doesn't quit the team.

“Listen,” he says. “There's something I need to talk to you about.”

Kise sits up. They're straddling the bench facing each other, a lot closer than he'd originally intended, and it's all Kasamatsu can do not to go running out the door. He forces himself to stay put and keep eye contact, or at least eye-adjacent contact. The space of empty air next to Kise's head isn't quite as distracting. It'll have to do.

“Here's the thing,” he starts. He's been running the speech through his head all day, but the words are suddenly jumbling together. “I think you're a brat.”

 _That_ didn't come out right. Kise looks affronted.

Shit. “Wait, that's not what I meant. I _thought_ you were a brat,” he amends. “I didn't think you liked Kaijou.”

Now Kise looks puzzled. He says, “But I do like Kaijou.”

“Yeah...I know.” This is not going well at all. “Kise,” he tries again. “I – I have to tell you – to clear the air, I just – ”

Kise's eyes are very warm, and very pretty. Looking at them was a mistake. Probably just about everything involving Kise up to this very moment has been a mistake, and now Kasamatsu's going to lose his lunch all over both their laps, and he'll have to resign from the team and relocate to a remote and faraway country.

“Senpai?” Kise asks. “Are you okay? You look...red.”

“I haven't been fair to you,” Kasamatsu manages. “I'm – Kise, I'm not going to hit you anymore. I don't – I don't want you to be scared of me. Captains should look out for their players,” he remembers belatedly.

Yeah, this is an absolute disaster.

Kise tilts his head, thoughtful. “But I'm _not_ scared of you.”

“You flinched,” Kasamatsu says, too uncomfortable to even care that Kise's throwing ten kinds of façade at him. “Two days ago.”

And then, amazingly, the politely inquisitive expression melts off Kise's face, he sits up out of his exaggerated slouch, and says, “Oh.” He sighs, and looks at his hands. “I didn't think you saw that.”

“Honestly, I'm glad you did,” Kasamatsu says. “If you hadn't, I probably wouldn't've realized...things, and I'd still be acting inappropriately. For a captain.”

Kise's gaze is perceptive, but guarded. Mostly, it's _real_ , and Kasamatsu feels it like a punch to the chest.

Without thinking, he says, “You shouldn't have to protect yourself from people, Kise.”

Kise raises an eyebrow. “Says the guy who's always hitting me.”

Kasamatsu laughs, only a little bitter. “No, you're right. I appreciate you dropping it for a second, though. It actually makes this a lot easier.” He shrugs. “I guess...it seems I like you. Against my better judgment.”

“That's very flattering,” Kise says. “I like you too, senpai. I told you, I _like_ Kaijou.” He bites his lip. “I really feel like I belong here.”

Kasamatsu stares at him. “No, I mean,” he starts to say. “That's not what I – Kise, I – ”

Something softens in Kise's expression, and the words seem to crawl even further down Kasamatsu's throat.

“I – ”

Kise kisses him.

It's awful, because his mouth is half open, and he's frozen in place, and his stomach is trying to burst directly out of his abdomen, and he's not even _breathing_ , but Kise's breath is warm when it washes over his face, and Kise's lips are soft and taste vaguely like honey, something citrusy that is possibly laced with narcotics for how lightheaded he currently is.

“Sorry,” Kise says when he pulls back. His eyes are brighter than Kasamatsu's ever seen them. “I wasn't sure that you meant it, at first.”

Kasamatsu reaches a shaky hand up to touch his lips, speechless.

“Senpai,” Kise says after a moment, sounding nervous. “Please say something.”

“Does this mean you're not quitting the team?”

It's Kise's turn to stare. “ _What_?”

“I've been picking on you,” Kasamatsu frowns. “I really screwed up. I thought – I don't know, that you'd be angry, at least.”

Kise laughs. “Captain, I've _been_ picked on,” he says, shaking his head. “Trust me, you didn't even scratch the surface.”

Kasamatsu's frown deepens. “That doesn't make me feel any better.”

Kise smirks. “Maybe this will,” he says, and kisses him again.

When they pull apart, he says, “Kise.”

“I like you too, senpai,” Kise says again, voice low. “I have for a long time now.”

“That doesn't make any sense,” Kasamatsu informs him. “You're a model. You could have anyone.”

“That's...probably true,” Kise admits. “But you know me. I like a challenge.”

“God,” Kasamatsu says. His heart is _hammering_. “I thought it would make me feel better to get this stuff off my chest, but now I just feel sick in a different way.”

“Just so you know,” Kise says. “That flinch, or whatever – that wasn't about you. That was residual from a long time ago, when I used to get actually picked on.”

“Even so,” Kasamatsu says. “You're my ace. I'm responsible for you, and I let you down.”

“Hm,” Kise says. “You could make it up to me, if you wanted. Over dinner.”

“Okay,” Kasamatsu agrees. “Wait. Are you asking me out?”

“Senpai is so _cute_ ,” Kise grins, linking their fingers together. “Yes, I'm asking you out.”

“And you're not quitting the team.”

“Well,” Kise says, “I don't really see how you'll win the Winter Cup without me. So I guess I'll just have to endure.”

“Brat,” Kasamatsu says. “We wouldn't stand a chance.”

Kise smiles.

Kasamatsu clears his throat. “So, if we're, uh, this,” he nods to their joined hands, “I definitely won't be hitting you anymore. Just so you know.”

“I know you won't,” Kise says, running his thumb along the edge of Kasamatsu's palm. “You're a good person, senpai. I trust you.” His smile widens. “What if I ask you to, though? There are _some_ scenarios – I've had a lot of time to think about this, you know.”

Kasamatsu blushes scarlet, and shifts against the pressure suddenly building behind his zipper. “Well – we can cross that bridge when we come to it,” he mumbles, squeezing Kise's hand before letting it go. “Right now you owe me a date, so finish getting dressed.”

“No fun,” Kise whines, buttoning his shirt. “I never figured you for a tease, senpai.”

“Kise,” Kasamatsu says helplessly. “I really don't – ”

“I know,” Kise says, hopping to his feet and towering over Kasamatsu as he fastens his belt. “It's part of why I like you. Most people start with me by imagining that kind of stuff.” He leans against the lockers. “You and Kurokocchi are the only exceptions that come to mind, actually.”

“Oh,” Kasamatsu says. “Yeah, I haven't really...imagined much, to be honest.” That's not entirely true, he's currently imagining about two thousand things, things he knows and things he doesn't know, things that are probably impossible and things he doesn't even have the words for.

Kise grins, like he knows exactly what Kasamatsu's thinking – probably _does_ , actually, the way he's leaning with his hip cocked, lashes long and low as he gazes down at Kasamatsu. It's _awful_ , the way he leans, Kasamatsu can't believe he never noticed it before.

“You'll probably still have to yell at me during practice,” Kise says, pushing off the lockers with one shoulder as Kasamatsu finishes putting his shoes on and stands.

“Yeah, I figured. You take a mile every time you get an inch.”

“Youngest child syndrome,” Kise confirms. He brightens. “So where are we going for our date?”

“Hell if I know,” Kasamatsu says, flustered. “Wherever you want, I guess.”

“ _Well_ ,” Kise says, bouncing on the balls of his feet, and _really_ , Kasamatsu should've known better than to say that. “Shuutoku's having a practice game with Seirin this afternoon. It'll have started already, but we can still catch the second half.” He touches Kasamatsu at his elbow. “And then dinner, if you want? I'll buy.”

“So, basically what we always do,” Kasamatsu says, allowing a small smile of relief.

Kise gives him an amused look.

“Okay, maybe not _exactly_ what we always do,” he amends, reaching up to push a strand of hair out of Kise's eyes. “Better, probably.”

“Probably,” Kise hums, leaning in.

This time, Kasamatsu is ready for it. He parts his lips for Kise, lets their mouths slide together in a way that feels natural, plants his hands on Kise's sides, only a little stiffly. He sucks gently at Kise's bottom lip, enjoying the way it makes Kise gasp and press closer. Their tongues curl against each other for a moment, tentatively, and then Kise pulls back, blushing furiously.

“Senpai,” he says, ducking his head. “I'm not going to want to stop if we keep doing this.”

Kasamatsu already doesn't want to stop, but he knows what Kise means. “Yeah,” he says, a little breathless. “Coach is probably gonna come through in a minute anyways. We should...we should go.”

“Maybe we can find an empty train compartment,” Kise suggests. “Or a bathroom.”

Kasamatsu groans. “You're gonna kill me, freshman.”

“That would spoil all of my future plans,” Kise tells him, laughing. “We'd never win the Winter Cup without you, for one.”

Kasamatsu expects to find the usual crowd of fangirls lying in wait outside the locker room, or at the very least, Moriyama with his ear pressed to the door. The hall is empty, incredibly, so he turns and holds his hand out to Kise. “This okay?”

Kise's smile is wobbly when he reaches forward to take it. “Senpai,” he says, squeezing. “I'm really happy.”

“Yeah,” Kasamatsu says, feeling a flush creep up his neck. “Good.”

He means _me too, I can't believe I didn't know I was missing this, I'm sorry, I'm sorry it took me so long. You deserve more. You deserve better than me, but I'm happy_.

Kise beams at him like the sun itself, and Kasamatsu knows he's understood.

 _This'll work_ , he thinks, feeling a warm buzz where Kise's elbow bumps against his.

Moriyama is absolutely going to hold this over him for the rest of his natural life.

“Senpai,” Kise says again. “Do you have bus fare? I just remembered I loaned my pass to one of the second-years, and I don't have any cash on me – unless we stop at an ATM – ”

It's a small price to pay, anyways. “I've got it,” Kasamatsu says, shaking his head. “Idiot.”

He means, _I've got you, I've always got you_ , and he doesn't need to look over at Kise's smile to know he understands that, too.

**Author's Note:**

> so I basically just have been wanting a fic where all the hitting and kicking of Kise is addressed, in a semi-serious way at least. I don't know that this necessarily accomplished that; these two are a lot harder for me to get a handle on. thanks for reading!
> 
> the title is from "come around" by rosi golan, it's a kisekasa song if ever there was one
> 
> now with amazing [fanart](http://takatsudon.tumblr.com/post/75879518614/ive-got-it-kasamatsu-says-shaking-his-head) by [taka](http://takatsudon.tumblr.com) (thank you!!!)


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